


Bond the Barbarian

by themuller



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Roman!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuller/pseuds/themuller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting the Romans, Bond is injured and captured. Now, he is to be sold as a slave on an auction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bond the Barbarian

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a tumblr fic while on vacation in Portugal. After visiting the excavations of Conímbriga, the largest Roman settlement in Portugal, this was just one of the many plot bunnies attacking me while travelling this beautiful country.
> 
> Picture taken on site - while being fried by the midday sun and my own stupidity (an umbrella would have done wonders).
> 
> And as always: not beta'ed, brit-picked or Roman-history-picked. English isn't even my second language.

  * [  
](http://themuller13.tumblr.com/image/148118860961)



Bond stood in the middle of the arena. The great wall extended half way behind him, the spectators filled the rows in front of him. Two of his people had been injured but chose to kill themselves instead of falling into Roman hands. Bond’s injuries had been too severe to leave him the choice, and the Roman healer too well versed in her craft to let him die. And now he had to face a life in captivity. A slave. Bond had to smirk. As much as the humiliation was grating on him, he somehow doubted that he would be staying for long. Looking around him, the Roman soldiers were at least a head shorter than him and most of the civilians wouldn’t pose any kind of threat to him. As far as he had understood the upcoming event, him and a few other poor souls were put up for the auction, to be sold to the highest bidder among the civilians of this town.

They had been on display for the best part of the morning. Their prospective masters had been prodding and groping them. Not few women had been touching Bond’s private bits, which he inevitably rewarded with a daring wink, unnerving most of them. Now, it was the auction itself.

It took a few hours in the afternoon sun, rendering the slaves thirsty and weary. Making it easier for their new masters to take them home and put them in their place. Bond had been the main attraction and had caused a bidding duel between two wealthy looking men. One of the other slaves, who was being sold off for the third or fourth time already, had gossiped about them. One being nobility, having lost a lot of the family’s wealth due to gambling debts and bad investments. The other one a former slave, having inherited a small fortune from his former master. Apparently, the latter was scorned upon despite having been able to make a name as a scholar of himself, as well as increase the wealth of his house. It was quite clear that the fight between the two men was about more than just the barbarian slave with blond hair and blue eyes.

Bond hoped for the former slave to win. The elder from Bond’s village had sent him away with the other fighters, not just to fight but to learn. Gold or horses, all of that could be taken from him, but knowledge, wisdom, that was what he should seek and return with. And Bond had learned. Had listened, watched and tried out new crafts whenever he had been able to. Had made friends more than enemies through the years of fighting.

This battle, which had brought him here, was supposed to have been the very last one for him. He was getting too old, had too many scars already. And he wanted to return to his village, live there in peace as the peasant he was meant to be. Being the slave of a scholar would surely lead to more knowledge. It would of course be more of a challenge to flee from him, Bond was sure, than from the puffy nobleman. Not that any of them would be able to stop Bond once he would be ready to leave.

In the end, Bond went with the young Roman, who rather surprisingly demanded that his new slave was freed from his shackles and just indicated Bond to follow him. They reached one of the large houses, situated outside of the great wall.

Before they went inside, the Roman turned towards Bond.

“What is your name?” he asked in a pleasant voice, rightly assuming that Bond was able to understand what was being said.

Bond told him his name.

“James?” the other man tried to repeat questioningly. Close enough, Bond thought with a curt nod.

“And your name?” The question was probably an insubordination coming from a slave.

“Quintillianus, but just call me Q,” the young man replied without hesitation or reprimand.

Just ‘Q’, Bond thought. That would normally be a slaves designation.

“We will dine shortly,” Q said, shoulders slumping as soon as he was inside the atrium, away from the curious glances and whispers behind upheld hands pointing at the slave and his new master.“Eva will bring you some water.”

Q waved at a bench near the artfully crafted basins of water which made out the centre of the atrium. He then left Bond, who obediently sat down and admired the small water fountains in front of him.

Eva, Bond wondered. The name was uncommon in this part of the country, yet he knew it from countries over in the East. It came with the new faith, he had heard rumours about. He shrugged, something to deal with later.

Q had looked tired and exhausted when they had reached the house. As if the day’s auction had taken a harder toll on him than on any of the slaves being sold. In the arena, Q had held his head high, looking noble and, Bond had to admit, alluring. Bidding arrogantly, without once acknowledging the other bidder, whose spouse tried to stop him in vain. Instead, he became more and more agitated, and, once it was clear that Q had won, fell back on his seat, defeated but enraged.

Bond heard some footsteps and a few moments later a breathtakingly beautiful woman appeared. Skin the colour of light ebony, dark brown eyes, black curly hair which begged to be touched. Bond sat up straighter, smiled his most flirtatious smile, lifting an eyebrow at her. She returned the smile, looking him in the eye and shook her head condescendingly. She left the water without a word of greeting, and turned back to another room.

Shortly after, Q returned and told Bond to follow him into the dining room. Fruit, bread and wine was laid out on a low table, cushions and blankets played out around it. Eva took a place on one side together with another man, who stayed rather close to her, while Q all but fell on the other end, once more waving a hand at Bond to join him. Curious, Bond looked at Eva and the other man, then turned to Q, trying to decipher what was expected of him.

Q laid back for a few moments with closed eyes. Eva was the first to break the silence.

“Q, you need to tell him,” she indicated Bond with her head. “If what you’ve heard is true, we don’t have much time.”

The other man remained silent, eyeing Bond warily. Q gave a deep sigh, then opened his eyes and sat up.

“James,” the name sounding foreign from Q. Foreign, in a rather lovely way, Bond thought. “James, you have met Eva, and this is her husband, Phinehas.”

The man bowed his head and Bond mirrored the movement.

With an effort, Q sat upright, carting a hand through his mop of hair. Bond was aware of the tense atmosphere in the room, but couldn’t help the small tingle in his belly watching Q.

“When will the next attack happen?” Q asked without preamble, catching Bond wrong-footed. When he didn’t answer right away, Q continued.

“The last battle was two weeks ago. I know, your people are planning another attack,” Q sounded dead tired. “As you may have seen, this house is on the wrong side of the wall - “

Bond couldn’t help the snort which clearly expressed his opinion of said wall. Against his people, that wall would be nothing than a small hindrance, overpowered not only by the numbers of men and women, but also by their ability to climb, fight and strategise around such an obstacle. Q lifted his hands resignedly.

“Exactly,” he said. “It may protect the other citizens for a little while. But we are still on the wrong side of the wall. And,” Q swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Eva and Phinehas need to make their escape before the next fight. She is pregnant and they should -“

Bond looked disbelieving at Q, then at the two other people in the room. Q had stopped talking.

“These are your slaves, and you are more concerned with their safety than your own?”

Bond looked at Q, who was on the verge of a collapse. He had bought Bond to, what? Ensure the escape of two slaves from the possible bloodshed and devastation, Bond knew would be the result of his people’s victory? Q did not reply.

“Yes, he is,” came the firm voice of Eva. She looked stern, willing Bond to understand what Bond found utterly bewildering. “We are the last of his slaves. He has manage to free the others, without attracting unnecessary attention from the citizens. But once we are gone, Q won’t be able to uphold the illusion of a household.”

She looked at Bond, who slowly understood the gravity of the situation. Bond had no idea whatever the history between Q and the citizens were, but the gossiper had made it clear that Q was dislike by the members of the nobility. Without any family or servants, he would be left helpless not only when facing Bond’s people, but perhaps even more so when facing his own people.

“Where would you go?” Bond asked, buying time to get a full understanding of the situation.

“Phinehas has family in the North. He was a free man, till - “ Eva stopped herself, taking her husband’s hand in hers. He looked at the floor. “Q bought him from one of the soldiers.”

“How will you survive?” Bond knew the dangers of travelling. He had no idea if Eva would be able to defend herself, let alone her husband, who might have been a warrior once, but looked weak and fragile beside his wife.

“And what about you, Q?”

Q did not answer. He had fallen asleep in the cushions. Passed out. Bond frowned.

“He had tried to make arrangements for all of us for the past weeks. Since the last attack,” Eva explained.

“Have you got horses?”

“Q owns a stable.”

“Provisions?”

“Taken care of. Food, water, clothing.”

“How many people, how many days?”

“Four and at least a month, including provisions for the horses,” Eva replied without hesitation, watching Q sleep through the conversation.

Bond could feel the shiver in his body. The excitement, which always came with a new challenge. He looked between the four of them.

“Would he come with you?” Bond looked at the sleeping form, lying curled up. Vulnerable, yet radiant even when asleep. A scholar, Bond’s mind supplied. What would be better than bringing home a scholar? A man of infinite knowledge.

Eva looked at Q then at Bond.

“He has nowhere to go,” she said, sadness apparent in her voice.

He has now, Bond thought. Then returned to matters at hand.

“Phinehas,” the name feeling clumsy in Bond’s mouth. “You watch him. If he wakes up, make him eat and drink.”

Together with Eva, Bond went to the stables nearby. The horses were a stout breed, not like the overbred, anxious animals, normally used by Roman soldiers. Satisfied, Eva and Bond made their way back to the main house.

“The next attack will be in less than a week,” Bond said quietly. “And the city will not survive this time. We make mistakes, but never the same one twice.”

Eva winced.

“Why will you help us?” she asked.

Because it’s fun, would have been Bond’s immediate answer. Out loud he said:

“I want to go home. And Q, he would be cherished in my village.”

“How far north is your village?” Eva asked in deep thought.

Bond looked her over.

“We have to cross many mountains and the Sea. It will take months, if not a whole year to get us there.”

“And you would take Q with you?” Eva asked disbelieving.

“Yes,” Bond said.

They entered the house silently. Q was still asleep, Phinehas watching over him. Bond could see a fondness in him, much more than Bond would have expected from a slave for his master. Then again, Q was by no means a master. If what Eva had been telling him was true, Q was risking everything to ensure their safety.

“We will give Q a good nights rest, prepare everything tomorrow and leave during the night,” Bond told Eva, then ushered her and her husband away. He himself sat down and took care of his own hunger and thirst, all but forgotten by the events of the day.

He kept a vigil for Q during the night. Wondering, why this man would have confidence in him? Because Bond was a ‘barbarian’ and knew their ways? How could Q be sure, Bond would help him?

With a candle in his hand, Bond explored the various rooms of the house, admiring the artwork of the mosaics, the water fountains and various other devices and mechanism, which had features and possibilities, Bond had a hard time to imagine. Q would truly be an asset for Bond’s village. If he could persuade him to come with him, stay with him. Bond huffed at his own sentiment. He had only known Q for half a day and already he had fallen head over heals for him. With a big sigh, Bond tried to put his mind at other, more pressing matters, only to find Q awake and confused in the dining room. He looked adorable like this. Bond came to his aid, tugging him gently in his arms and started feeding him. Q let him, pliantly drinking and chewing whatever Bond provided for him. Eventually, Q drifted off to sleep again.

All four of them left the next night, avoiding both the Roman soldiers and Bond’s people. Being seen traveling with three Romans would have needed a lot of explaining. Nothing, Bond or Q were interested in at the time.

Over the next months, the four of them travelled north, Eva and Phinehas staying with them. Eva gave birth when they had made it to the city of Lutèce, by now a mere shadow of the city, Bond had visited years before.

Londinium was  reached a few weeks later, after an uneventful crossing of the channel. And still, the little group marched on. Further north, reaching Bond’s native village of Scaevola more than a year after they had fled from Q’s house during the night.

Bond and Q later learned that Q’s town had been destroyed by Bond’s people just a few days later. The few survivors fleeing or enslaved, the houses and buildings crushed. Q showed no signs of regret or anger towards Bond or even towards the destruction of Q’s many inventions. He had left that part of his life behind, hoping for a better future.

It was a night, several months after their arrival in Scaevola. The elder of the village had accepted the new inhabitants without hesitation. Eva’s small family thrived, the whole village helping them to build a new home. Q had been welcomed just as Bond had foreseen. A scholar, a man of the books, but also a craftsman, who could imagine and produce devices of such intriguing quality and usefulness, it astonished the elder and let Bond’s heart swell with pride.

Q was looking at Bond that night, both of them tired from work in the fields. They had shared a bed for more than a year, the trust, Q had placed in Bond had come to full bloom. And Bond was still wondering, what he had done to deserve this extraordinary man as his mate. Bond’s smile was soft as he leaned over to kiss his lover, slowly, deeply. Letting him feel the desire that was swelling in Bond. Q let him in, tongues tasting, caressing lips, while their eyes were blown wide with lust. Bond’s hand found its way down the slim and strong body, pressing against his side, hips moving on their own accord. They sighed and moaned, Q begging, his hands caressing Bonds sides, grabbing Bond’s arse, urging him on. Their cocks sliding together, sweat and precome mingling on their stomachs. They came together, muffling their screams by burying their faces in the hollow of the other’s neck and shoulder.

They stayed that way, securely curled up in each others arms.

  



End file.
